16, 443 Miles
by VSSAKJ
Summary: -DISCONTINUED- What happens when all the Millenium Items are destroyed, flinging from them their inhabitants? What happens when the distance between two people becomes unbearable? What happens when you would give anything just to get home?
1. Chapter 1

_(A/N: This is a work of fiction, and I own no characters save those I have created, who are copy-written solely to myself. For convenience, the city of Domino has been given the same coordinates as Tokyo, and though it has not replaced that city, that is where it will be located. The inspiration for this story came from deepsenseremix; credit to her for the plot line. There will be a slash version of this story out whenever I can get it written.)_

_**Sixteen Thousand Four Hundred Forty-Three Miles**_

_**Chapter 1: Forty-Seven Degrees North, Eighty-Four Degrees West**_

_Blinding white light... pushing... pulling... burning... freezing... screaming... Yugi... Yugi? ... Puzzle?... Yugi... melting... twisting... flying... pain..._

Yami's eyelids fluttered open slowly, his head spinning and his stomach feeling like it was standing on end.

Where was he? What had happened?

He looked around, carefully sitting up as he did so. Not too quickly now; his head felt like it had been beaten in a number of times and he was quite sure his stomach wouldn't be able to control itself if he moved any faster. He appeared to be sitting in some kind of alley-way, brick walls rising on either side of him. There were random scraps of garbage and whatnot littering the ground, but where he was seated was more or less clean. It was rather dark out so it must be late evening or so, and -he shivered- more than a little cold. Gazing upward, he saw odd white particles floating towards the ground, melting when they touched his bare shoulder.

Leaning against the graffiti-covered brick, Yami slowly rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. Something wasn't right here. He'd never seen this white stuff before, and there was certainly none of it in Japan! Instinctively, as he usually did when he couldn't fathom something, he tried to speak mentally with Yugi.

Okay, this was bad.

He couldn't sense Yugi. At all. It struck him that he should have noticed this before, but his mind was only just coming to proper thought process once again, and Yugi's presence had been known to be feeble when the boy was sleeping. But it had always been there to some extent. And it wasn't. He couldn't even tell if his partner existed anymore.

What exactly had happened? He was deathly confused.

Closing his eyes, he sought to remember recent events and feelings. _'Come on now...' _He thought to himself, straining his memory, _'Remember...'_

_An enormous flash of piercingly white light... feeling contorted and stretched and ripped and torn... a blazing heat, erupting around his body... an icy cold, spreading from the inside out... a squelching sort of suction feeling... floating... spinning... flying..._

Yami pressed his hands over his eyelids; everything felt blurred and mashed together and that memory wasn't making anything remotely clear. What was this cold stuff?

Wait a moment.

Cold.

He was cold.

Therefore he was solid.

But how could that be? He needed Yugi's body to have a solid form! And Yugi wasn't here, he'd already determined that. Maybe Yugi had been destroyed... killed. Maybe he, Yami, was all that was left now.

'_No,'_ Yami shook his head, then stopped because it made the world wobble quite badly, '_Don't think like that. I simply have to find my way back to Japan. I am surely no longer there.'_

And so, shivering and with an aching head, he set off through the night, thinking dully to himself, '_Why are things always infinitely easier said than done?'_

_**Interlude 1.1**_

_**Domino City**_

"Yugi?"

'_I don't want to wake up.'_

"Yugi!"

'_I can't feel my other self. I don't want to wake up.'_

"C'mon Yugi, wake up, buddy!"

'_I don't want to-'_

WHACK!

'_Ouch!'_

"Kaiba! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Waking him. If he refuses to do so, then pick him up and carry him, we simply cannot stay here. It's too dangerous."

"That doesn't mean you can hit him!"

"I'm alright," Yugi mumbled softly, placing a hand to his head and struggling to sit up. He felt a hand on his back, and gratefully leaned into its support. His head felt very woozy. He blinked a few times, dust in his eyes, then looked around, confused, "What happened?"

"We don't know..." Jounouchi's voice came from behind him; so he was the one supporting him.

Suddenly, a large chunk of cement crashed into the ground only feet to their left, making Yugi jump. He looked around, eyes wide with disbelief. Everything was in ruins. Broken shards of glass littered the ground, which was filled with cracks and debris. Telephone poles were strewn about as if a giant's child had thrown a tantrum; cars were crushed beneath them and some were straight through buildings. Looking up, Yugi saw that they were underneath a tin sign that was leaning against a cable box, which was open and displaying crackling live wires.

Kaiba's voice came next, calm and critical, "We can't stay here. If it starts to rain, we're already dead. It's not safe to try and figure out what's going on, so unless you want to risk further injuries, I suggest we get going."

Yugi looked behind him, seeing that Jou had a deep gash on the side of his face and one leg of his pants was torn and blood-stained. Beyond him, Honda was supporting Ryou, who looked to have passed out, his arm sticking out at an odd angle. Kaiba, to their right, initially appeared unhurt, but when he turned a certain way, Yugi could see him wince.

When Yugi struggled to his feet, he discovered that his right ankle refused to take his weight. Without comment, Jounouchi began to aid him in following Kaiba, apparently oblivious to the pain in his own leg. Honda lurched into movement with Ryou, and the group moved off down the wrecked streets of Domino, each wondering what exactly had happened to their fair city.

_****_

_**Location: Cold-town **_

Dawn found Yami huddled in a doorway, a moth-eaten old black coat thrown haphazardly over his bare shoulders in an effort to keep warm. Not that it did much good. He shivered and tried to shrink further into the doorway; the wind was biting and positively freezing. Obviously, what clothing was suitable in Japan was not suitable here. His leather pants felt like blocks of ice against his skin and crackled when he moved, and he found himself wishing he still had his own coat, instead this abandoned scrap and his sleeveless shirt.

To make matters worse, he wasn't any closer to home than he'd been in the middle of the night.

Knowledge of where he was: None, save that it was chilly.

Knowledge of how far from home he was: Damned far.

Knowledge of what this white stuff was: Cold and wet and seemingly never-ending.

Yami sighed and sank toward the ground, curling into a ball and pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead.

This was so bad. Just bad. How in the holy name of Ra had he gotten here? How was he going to get home How –he shivered and tried to shrink into an even smaller ball- was he going to survive? He had no food, no water, no money. He checked his pockets, finding nothing more than dust and damp lint.

Hmm. That was odd.

He didn't have his duel deck. He took that with him everywhere, and as far as he remembered, he'd never removed it from its pocket. He bowed his head into his arms; this was looking bleaker by the minute.

"Hey man, what are you doing out here in no sleeves on a day like today? You'll freeze your tail off!"

Yami looked up, surprised that someone was talking to him. He saw someone who looked to be about nineteen years old, with a shock of violently red hair poking out from under a black toque and bright blue eyes peering owlishly at him. Yami blinked, trying to absorb what the man had said and, finding it pointless, gave a perplexed, "Pardon?"

"You got anywhere to stay?" The man continued, his hands in the pockets of what looked like a very warm jacket.

Yami shook his head, still trying to decode the slang in the man's first phrase.

"Well, come on with me. I'm not really supposed to bring bums into work, but you've got a pretty face and you don't look all that poor. Jenna'll like you." The man grinned and extended his hand to Yami, who took it and pulled himself up, the black coat on his shoulders falling to the ground. "I'm José. What's your name?"

Yami hated that question. "I don't remember." He replied softly, wrapping his arms around himself.

José cocked his head at him, asking with concern, "Amnesia?"

"No, it's a long story. The last person I knew called me his other half. His dark half."

"Dark half, eh? Odd." José shrugged, then appeared to think for a moment, "We'll have to find you a more normal name than that. No way Kolin's going to let you stay with some weird name like that. What if we called you Felix?"

Kolin? Felix? Yami's head was spinning, but he gave a nod, feeling that it was probably a good idea to accept this man's help, even though he didn't quite know what it was yet.

"Alright, Felix then. If you'd like to come with me I can get you something a bit warmer to wear." José poked Yami's goose-pimpled arm with a grin, "I don't know what possessed you to wear leather and no sleeves in the middle of December. C'mon."

'_If you only knew.'_ Yami thought savagely, following José down the street, wondering if this easy-going man would believe his story.


	2. Chapter 2

_(A/N: Here's the second chapter. No, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Yes, I do own the woman introduced. Thanks to darkmetaldragonfangs for the review! I'm pretty sure my chapters will stay generally the same length, but they might fluxuate once in while. Watch for language in this one, Bakura makes his entrance...)_

_**Chapter 2: Twenty-Four Degrees North, Thirty-Three Degrees East **_

A warm breath of wind passed above him, half-lifting something with soft 'shhh' sound. He could tell it was only half-lifted because the other half was raining down gently upon him; it felt warm and cool and dry all at once. It was a familiar feeling, this sort of grit pressing against his bare arms and through his shirt into his back. The taste of that air was familiar too; thick and tepid and almost baked or rusted. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down one side of his face, though it couldn't have been too late in the day and he didn't feel excessively hot. That was something that had happened before too.

Malik slowly opened his eyes, and was confronted with the sight of a giant red coin floating in the sky above him. He blinked once, trying to make sense of that... and then he blinked once more, and then again. That was no coin, no, it was the sun. And he knew of only one place where the sun glowed that feisty shade of red at noon.

"Egypt." He murmured softly to himself, sitting up and gazing about, "My homeland."

Dusky red-brown dunes flowed in every direction, he himself seated upon one. Wind snaked past every few moments, causing his gold-blonde hair to flick into his face. He ignored it, reveling in the feeling of finally –finally!- being back home. No clouds marred the sky, no imperfection presented itself in the eternal desert. It was like he'd never left.

Malik rose to his feet, still looking around. It felt so unreal. How had he gotten here? Where exactly was he? What city was he near? He could hear city noises, camels calling loudly, people shouting, the thousand bangles of a thousand women jingling, wheels creaking, blocks of sand and boxes of anything thumping to the ground and any other noise that could be attributed to an Egyptian day. But these noises didn't feel quite close, and he could be more than half imagining them. Who knew how long he'd lain in the sun? Who was to say he didn't have sun stroke and was suffering some strange phantom memory sounds?

Malik shook his head gently, crouching down to take up a handful of sand and then let it drain back to Earth through his fingers. This was real. The heat was real, the sweat proved that. The grit on his body was real. It was real. He really was in Egypt again.

Now the question was where.

_**Interlude 2.1 Fifty-Six Degrees North, Thirty-Five Degrees East **_

The air reeked of cigarette smoke, gasoline and discarded alcohol. There was noise clamouring all around, a constant sort of hum and bustle, but none of it seemed particularly nearby. Why hadn't he woken before? This noise and stench was enough to turn the dead in their grave.

But the instant Bakura opened his eyes, he felt the sharp heel of a boot press into his throat and a fierce mutter in a dialect he didn't know: _"Don't move."_

Startled, angry and confused all at once, the former tomb robber looked up at the person who'd spoken. It was a woman, clad all in black and glaring down at him with such a vicious air that he was rendered temporarily speechless. Upon a quick recovery, he snarled, "Let me go, bitch!"

The woman's grey eyes grew even more steely and cold, and she put more weight on his neck. Bakura choked. Apparently satisfied that he wasn't about to do anything more, the woman spoke brokenly, "I say not move. You owe me life."

Bakura's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth as he was once again rendered entirely speechless. That had been twice, more than he could remember ever happening any time before. A hate for this woman erupted deep in his chest, simply because she could do such a thing to him. When he finally made his tongue work once again, his tone was dark and suspicious, "Why do I owe you my life?"

She shrugged, her reply as sarcastic as they come, "I only drag you out of middle of street." As something of an afterthought, she added cruelly, "Lousy place for nap."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. Still, he needed information. "Where am I?"

"Alleyway."

He really was hating this woman now, wholly and fully. She was doing this just to aggravate him, he knew it, and he didn't like it one bit. "What city, bitch? Where?"

"You no call me bitch. You in Tver, in Russia."

Russia? How in the name of Ra had he gotten here? "How did you bring me here?"

"I tell you, I find you in street!" The woman protested, then paused, "You lost?"

"No!" Bakura snarled, trying to get up, "I'm not lost, bitch!"

She pushed her foot down on his windpipe, effectively cutting off his air and halting his attempts at movement.

How... dare... she... He was just about ready to kill her; he had his information, he needed nothing more from her. She was just a nuisance now. But somehow... he felt that something just wasn't right. He shifted a bit, trying to free himself.

"You stop move and not call me bitch, or I kill you." Said the woman severely.

That was it! He'd had it! Bakura snapped, and readied himself to banish her forever to the dark realms of shadow... shit, that was what was wrong! The Ring was gone! He felt no power inside of himself; without the Ring, he had no control over others and their fates. Where was it? He needed that Ring! She'd taken it, hadn't she? Filthy bitch!

With a roar, he seized her leg and wrenched it to one side with a strength born of pure rage. She stumbled, off-balance, and fell to the ground, and he took that opportunity to scramble to his feet. But as he did, he was overcome by a debilitating wave of nausea and turned away to be violently sick. In the few short moments it took for him to purge his stomach of nothing but acid, the woman leapt to her feet and pulled a knife from her bag. Then she stood, poised and ready, for whenever he should turn.

Bakura leaned against the dirtied brick wall, one hand wiping the sick from his chin while his mind positively raced. What in the world was going on? The Ring was missing, he'd just been sick, he had a body... He had a body? Why hadn't he realized this earlier? This could be quite excellent! He didn't need the Ring, he'd kill this girl with his own two hands!

But as he whirled around to face her again, the ground gave a powerful lurch and he nearly keeled over. Ah, damn. She'd take this opportunity. He was dead already. He could feel the blow.

The girl didn't attack. After all, he wasn't a threat to her if he couldn't stand straight.

_**Location: Aswãn **_

He didn't know how long he'd plodded amongst the sand dunes. It felt like ages. The soles of his feet were scorched and aching; somehow, he'd lost his shoes. He was still in shock at being here, in Egypt again, and often forced himself to wonder why.

What had the power to send him here in mere moments?

How had he been sent? Had he just appeared out of thin air?

He supposed he'd never know just how he'd gotten here, or how he'd appeared. It would take much more luck than he had to find someone who had been in that portion of the desert at the exact time he had 'arrived'.

But he knew what had the power to send him here, and it scared him.

The Millenium Rod.

And it was gone.

He had checked for it soon after he'd awoken, but discovered it missing. He had felt a kind of jubilation at that, a freedom he hadn't felt in a terribly long while. For the first time since he'd had the Pharaoh's secret carved into his back, he'd felt like he was his own person, like he had no obligations to anyone but himself, and nothing to worry about.

That feeling had soon faded.

He'd decided that he was actually hearing sounds of a city, but how far it was he had no idea whatsoever. Thus, he'd listened carefully, schooled his footsteps in what he dearly hoped was the right direction, and started walking. Behind him was a toiling line of prints in the sand, before him bleak desert. It may well take days to get to the city he was hearing; sound travelled well in the flat openness of the sand-plains. The nothingness stretched for eons.

No wait, there in the distance. Was that water?

'_Mirages,'_ Malik reminded himself sternly, rubbing his fist across his eyes and looking again, _'Mirages are common-place to the sands.'_

But this was no mirage. He saw a river, and what's more, he saw people crossing the river on barges, and if he lifted his eyes further, he saw the city across the way. He'd made it.

'_That must be the Nile.'_ Malik decided after a moment of reflection, and he started walking once again, towards the river, _'And so this city... it must be Asw_ãn.'


	3. Chapter 3

_(A/N: Chapter three! (No really! It is! I'm not kidding about this!) Thanks going out to Marble Angel, darkmetaldragonfangs and Tekli for their awesome reviews! It's nice to feel appreciated! Here's hoping this chapter lives up to standards...)_

_**Chapter 3: Thirty-Six Degrees North, One Hundred Forty Degrees East**_

"Tell me why it has to be your place, Kaiba." Jounouchi demanded for what must have been the third time.

"Do you have a better location? I doubt your living space is still standing, the same with the two back there." Kaiba gestured to Honda and Ryou, the second of which still unconscious, "Yugi's grandfather's game shop is at least twice the distance from here, and I'm quite certain you don't want to push such a journey on your injured friends." He looked at Yugi, who was very pale and looked like he was going to pass out.

Jounouchi adjusted Yugi's positioning so it was more comfortable for the younger teen before he replied, "Why help us out anyway?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, I'd feel rather guilty if you all died when I could have helped you." Kaiba returned acridly, "Besides that, I need to know how to find Mokuba."

"Mokuba?" Jou sounded surprised, "What's he got to go with us?"

"In case you haven't noticed, that necklace your friend always wears is gone. There's reason to believe that's the cause of all of this."

"You think Yugi knows how get your brother back from wherever he is?"

Kaiba shrugged lightly, though it wasn't a gesture he'd normally resort to, "He has more of a chance of knowing than the rest of us, doesn't he?"

There was nothing Jounouchi could find to say to that, so he kept walking on in silence. After a couple of minutes, they reached Kaiba's mansion, which appeared virtually undamaged save for a tree that had fallen into one of the wings. Kaiba led them inside and brought them into the basement, which had an extremely large computer occupying most of it and furniture strewn haphazardly about the rest. Honda placed Ryou down on a sofa while Jou aided Yugi in finding a comfortable chair to sit in.

Kaiba turned on the computer, seating himself in a large chair before the screen. Honda spoke to Jounouchi for the first time since they'd woken up, "Why are we here?"

"I guess you didn't hear that conversation." Jou replied with a bit of a sigh, "It's because it's the most convenient place, or so Kaiba says."

Honda nodded over his shoulder at Ryou and Yugi, asking, "Shouldn't they see a doctor?"

Jou nodded, then looked around, trying to find a phone. The room was fairly large so he decided to save himself some time and asked Kaiba instead, "Where's the phone?"

"A doctor's already coming. He'll be here in half an hour." Kaiba replied shortly, his fingers flying across the keys, "Keep Yugi awake, if you can."

"Why?" Jounouchi asked suspiciously, though he cast a worried glance at the half-asleep looking teen that was the subject of their conversation.

"I need to ask him something."

"He's not going to stay awake for your needs!" Jou growled angrily, taking a step backwards towards Yugi's chair.

"It's also more than likely he has a concussion, meaning if he goes to sleep he may not wake up." Kaiba spoke of it coolly, as if it wasn't a matter of Yugi passing into a coma but say, going to the store to buy bananas.

Jounouchi glared angrily at him before turning to Yugi, tapping him on the shoulder and asking, "Are you alright?"

Yugi gave him a weak smile that suggested he was half out of it and replied, "Yeah… but Jounouchi, the Puzzle's gone… and so's my other half… I didn't want to wake up… I'm really tired, and my head hurts… I want to go back to sleep, Jounouchi…"

"I know, buddy." Jounouchi said softly, "But the guy on the computer says you have to stay awake." He didn't feel the need to grace Kaiba with a name, figuring Yugi could guess it on his own.

"Oh…" Yugi replied groggily, his eyes drifting slowly shut, "But I'm so tired, Jounouchi…" His head drooped onto his shoulder.

Jou gripped his shoulders and shook him, saying desperately, "No, Yugi, you've got to stay awake, come on, do it for me!" Yugi's head lolled from side to side. Jou's voice grew panicked, "Yugi, no! Wake up! Yugi!"

_**Interlude 3.1: Cold-town**_

"Alright, we're here. Do yourself a favour and don't talk unless Kolin talks to you first, he's a bit of a jerk and doesn't like you if you talk too much, so naturally he hates me. Uhm, try not to talk to Jenna until you've been told you can stay, but like I said, she'll probably like you so it's only Kolin we're worried about. Well then, come on in!" Yami swore that boy was talking forty miles a minute, but he nodded and followed José inside the back door, into what seemed to be a kitchen.

José was taking off his hat and parka by a coat rack, and he shook his head before he walked down a short, narrow path between the oven and the serving counter. Yami assumed he was supposed to stay put, so there he stayed, though he did sidle closer to the oven to try and warm himself slightly. The next thing he heard was a very loud, angry-sounding:

"You brought someone off the street in here? Again?"

Then, jovial and somewhat pleading, "He's not a bum, so don't look at me like that, Kolin! Look, he was wearing no sleeves and –don't look at me like that!- and he looked half-frozen." A pause. "You haven't even seen him yet! How can you say something like that?" Another pause. "You don't know that, just because half the people on the street are pot-headed drunks doesn't mean this dude is!"

Yami shifted uncomfortably. It didn't seem like this Kolin person was very partial to those who had no idea where they were. Perhaps he should just leave before he cause anymore trouble…

"Oh no you don't, Kolin's just stubborn, leave him to cool off for a few minutes and it'll all be fine, so long as you can pull your weight a little." A stressed-sounding female voice came from down a hallway to his left; he stopped turning to leave and instead turned to face her. She had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and sparkly brown eyes that carried a zest for life.

Yami didn't know quite what to say to her, but he tried, "He doesn't sound-"

"Kolin's sounds like an ass, and he is, but surely you've dealt with people like that before?"

Yes, he had. Kaiba. He nodded.

Jenna (for that was the only person it could be) wiped her hands on a faded apron around her waist and replied, "There you go, so you just hang tight and be ready to deal with him whenever he decides to get his butt out here and act like a grown up instead of yelling his lungs out at José."

Yami shifted again. The slang all these people used was confusing, and didn't make any sense to him at all. He found himself hoping this Kolin was more than a bit like Kaiba, educated and stubborn in the way of the proper, literal use of words. Honestly, how was he supposed to 'hang tight' when both feet were planted firmly on the ground?

The reappearance of José brought his attention back to the other end of the room. He cocked his head questioningly at the teen, who ran a hand through his red hair and shrugged, "He's thinking about it."

Yami slumped against the wall next to the door; would he be forced through some sort of initiation program? Would he have to fight for his life with only hot oil as his weapon? Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad but still… it would be so much simpler if he were just allowed to stay until he figured out what was going on.

Ten minutes later the closed door at the end of the hall still hadn't budged and José impatiently tapped his foot against the support of a counter. "Come on Kolin, it doesn't take this much thinking to decide whether you'll come meet a guy or not…"

Yami looked at the closed door and thought that maybe it did.

After another five minutes, José stood up and declared, "That's it, I'm teaching you how to make a beavertail!"

Yami was so shocked the words burst out without him thinking, "I beg your pardon?"

"A beavertail! You know, beavertails… they taste good… people eat them…" José waved his hand as if it were something everyone should know.

People… ate… them? What kind of sick place had he been warped to? And how did José expect him to 'make' a beavertail? He didn't exactly grow them. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing José with a confused but resolute gaze that said, 'And I'm not moving from this spot until I do.'

José looked at him for a moment then broke into peals of laughter. "Oh, I get it! You're from out of town, you don't know. Well, they're not real beavertails, just come over here and I'll show you."

Yami paused for a moment, then cautiously went to Jos's side, as if expecting to be attacked by a chained beaver.

"See, here's our beavertail!" José smiled at him as he whipped what looked like a shapeless lump of dough out from under the counter.

Yami considered it, but found no connection between it and a beaver's tail. He said as much. "That looks nothing like the tail of a beaver."

José chuckled lightly and said in a mysterious manner, "Ah, but watch and be amazed as before your very eyes it changes!" He stretched the dough out until it was in a rough sort of oval shape, then pulled several small containers of spices and jellied fruits towards him. "Now you just look at these and decide which ones you want while I fry this baby up. On second though, smell them if you like 'cause they all look the same." He smiled and walked off with his ovular dough.

Yami looked through the bunches of spices, sniffing occasionally at them and chose nutmeg, cinnamon and something that smelled really good, as well as brown sugar. The containers of fruit were labelled so him simply pulled the one with apples towards him and pushed the rest back to where they'd come from. He was rather curious now as to how this would turn out.

José came back mere moments later with the fried dough, which had gone crispy and turned a lovely shade of golden-brown. He looked at Yami's choices and nodded, no speaking with a French air, "Ah oui mosieur, what excellent taste you 'ave! Now José shall work magic with you selections!" He took a pinch of this and a dash of that, and smeared a hefty spoonful of the apple paste on top. Again his tone of voice changed, now to some sort of annoucer, "And there we have it folks, the one-of-a-kind beavertail!"

Yami didn't think it looked much like a beaver's tail, but he supposed if you cocked your head and squinted it might. He took it when José offered it to him and cautiously took a bite. It was surprisingly good, and very warm.

José grinned at him and asked, "You like it, huh?"

Yami nodded, feeling brown sugar gathering at the corners of his mouth.

"He can stay."

Both José and Yami whirled around, José putting a hand to his chest and gasping, "Jeez Kolin, you nearly gave me a heart attack there."

Yami studied the other boy; he looked to be roughly twenty-two and had dark grey eyes only a few shades lighter than his raven-black hair. He stood with a confident sort of air and was scowling at them. "What's your name?"

It took Yami a moment to realize he was being spoken to, "Uh, it's…"

"Felix! His name's Felix, Kolin, so can he stay, pelase?" José pouted with his bottom lip out, clasping his hands together to look like he was begging.

"Lay off it, I already said he could." Kolin did not appear amused, and seemed more interested in Yami than Jos's antics, "So you, Felix. Just don't do anything stupid while you're here."

"I didn't plan on it." Yami returned delicately.

"Good. You're obviously not as foolish as you look. Wearing short sleeved leather in the middle of winter, what kind of crazies will we get in here next?" Kolin muttered the last phrase to himself, turning away to head into some back room.

Yami held himself a bit higher. It seemed that this Kolin person was more like Kaiba than he'd anticipated. What fun.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: Fifty-Two Degrees South, Sixty Degrees West**_

It was dark. His eyes weren't open, and he could tell it was dark. It smelled too. Smelled awfully funny. Like fish, and saltwater, and something else completely revolting. Odd smells, not ones to associate with Domino city, which was next to entirely land based...

Now wait just a second.

Was the ground supposed to be rocking?

Was he aboard a ship?

Wait again.

How in the name of Ra had he gotten on board a ship?

With a deep groan, Yami no Malik rolled to one side and slowly opened eyes. He was confronted by a large sealed box, and the disgustingly uncomfortable feeling of warm clothes against your skin. Where in the hell was he?

He sat up slowly, feeling dizzy and nauseous. He figured that may be because of the boat, but somehow felt that he'd probably feel the same way even if he wasn't at sea... No, that was confusing, stop thinking about it...

Yami no Malik put a hand to the side of his head, his fingers coming across an egg-sized bruise underneath his hair. It was extremely sore. He did dearly want to know where he was, but also wanted to know why he felt so sick. He wasn't all that boat-intolerant, was he?

He forced his fogged mind to work. The last thing he remembered was... well, lots of lights for one thing, and a lot of pain for another. Not entirely helpful. But he had been in Domino city, which he wasn't anymore. So he was not in Domino. There was one fact.

His head seriously hurt, as did the rest of his body and his stomach. Now, what could that have been caused by? The lights, yes, but how? How, damnit, HOW?

He coughed, and a smattering of blood boiled up his throat. That was bad. Very bad. Internal bleeding? How was that possible?

Hold that thought.

Was he solid? As in, flesh and blood?

He had to be. He couldn't bleed otherwise. But... there was no Rod in his hand. Malik's presence was non-existent. Had his 'kinder' half finally been destroyed?

No, that couldn't be. He was Malik's emotions, how could he exist if his beholder didn't exist?

Right, so Malik was still alive.

And he, Yami no Malik, was solid. Had they finally been torn asunder? Was he his own person now? He'd have to assume he was, which meant taking care of this body and figuring out just why there was blood in his throat... or stomach... or wherever it had come from.

Carefully, Yami no Malik stood up, taking a few moments to calm his roiled stomach and to adjust to the rocking of the boat. A wooden pail skittered across the damp floor and knocked him in the ankles; he nearly fell but clung to a nearby box to stay upright. That must be what had caused the lump on his head.

Slowly, he began picking his way across the crowded room. There were crates and boxes everywhere, water on the floor and that putrid fish smell. He found a stairway nearly opposite where he'd started and sank down on the bottom step to rest a moment.

This was frustrating. He wasn't lazy, per say, but it was far easier to retreat and let your other side deal with things such as this. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this body business.

_**Interlude 4.1**_

_**Tver**_

Something... was burning. He could feel his eyes watering from it. It hurt. Was it... Ra damn it, he was burning!

With a choke and a cough and a splutter, Bakura's eyes snapped open and the first thing they saw was that irritating (to put it lightly) Russian woman whom he'd encountered on his first venture into consciousness in this country. He growled low in his throat and tried to sit up. It wasn't so difficult this time. His brain didn't feel quite so... out of sorts. He didn't feel sick.

He was suspicious. "What did you do to me?" He demanded, glaring at the woman.

She showed him a small bottle and replied, "You pass out. I give you brandy."

Bakura gently touched his throat, then asked, "Is that what was burning?"

The woman nodded.

His annoyance returned in seconds. Even after who knew how long of unconsciousness, he still hadn't forgotten the matter that had set him in that state. "Where is the Ring? You stole it, didn't you?"

The woman cocked her head at him, shaking it while she replied, "I see no ring."

"Don't lie to me! I know you have it. bitch!" Bakura's temper was on the rise again; he could not deal with this lack of power.

"I ask you no call me bitch. I not know what ring you talk about." The woman said flatly, rising and backing away from his while she crossed her arms and stared down at him darkly.

Bakura leaned against the wall behind him while he rose to his feet, growling, "It's big, and golden. I had it around my neck. Where did you put it?"

"I not see it! It not with you when I find you and no where near you either. You lose it?" It was clear the woman was becoming frustrated with their difficulty communicating; perhaps she simply thought that Bakura didn't understand her.

Bakura slumped against the wall. If she didn't have it, then where was it? What had happened to it? He was solid which meant... no wait. It didn't mean a thing. Ryou didn't need to be destroyed for him to have his own body if...

"Oh no." Bakura muttered, placing a hand on his forehead. "No, no, NO!" He ripped around and slammed a fist into the wall, several of his knuckles protesting loudly at the abuse and three of them tearing skin open and bleeding.

"What wrong?" The woman asked cautiously, looking as if she didn't know whether to go closer or to run away.

"Damn! Damn hell! DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" Bakura was yelling now, sinking to his knees while beating mercilessly on the wall and pavement with his fists. It couldn't have happened, not after this long, he needed that Ring.

"What wrong? You hurt self!" The woman sounded panicked; did she think he'd suddenly gone mad? To be sure, she probably already though him half-crazy, but this would seal her opinion to his lunacy.

"It's gone! It's been destroyed! DAMN!" Bakura howled angrily, taking no notice of the blood now seeping from his wrists and knuckles.

"It just a ring!" The woman protested.

Bakura turned to her, eyes wild. "Just a ring? JUST A RING?" He screamed, losing his cool completely, "That Ring was my entire life, my entire fortune, my entire power! I have nothing now, nothing but this puny body and stupid memories of my strength, strength I can never have again! And you call it just a ring!"

"I not know." The woman replied coolly, though she was shaking a bit, "You need calm down."

Bakura was now kneeling on the ground, blood soaking the pavement beneath his hand, furious tears trickling from his eyes. This was awful. Awful. He couldn't move; his shoulders were shaking from the force of his emotions, and his interior felt light and airy. He felt empty. Entirely.

"You... alright?" The woman asked cautiously; she was obviously not an entirely cruel person, though it was apparent Bakura scared her.

"No." Bakura muttered bitterly, "No, I'm not alright."

"You hungry? You not eat in long time. Five hours, more." She moved closer to him, offering him her hand.

Bakura looked at it, longing to scoff and smack it away. But he didn't feel like he could do that right now. There was nothing in his body except for blood and soul; there was no energy, no feeling, no sustenance. Much as he abhorred to admit it, he needed her help.

He took her hand and heaved himself from the ground.

_**Location: Domino City **_

He awoke to the sound of tapping keys. Yugi's eyes fluttered open into artificially lit darkness and he sat up, wondering where he was. He'd been moved from his chair, and was now lying on a long couch. Jounouchi was asleep at the other end of the couch, his head and shoulders on the bed but his knees folded on the floor. Tristan was spalyed out in a chair across the way; Ryou appeared not to have moved from when they'd arrived, though there was a glass of water and bottle of pills on a small table next to him.

"The doctor came in while you were unconscious." Kaiba's voice came from somewhere near the source of light.

Yugi stood up carefully, discovering that his ankle had been wrapped tightly with bandages and could stand the smallest portion of his weight. Painfully, he limped his way over to Kaiba, who was still sitting at the computer, looking for all the world like the only thing that'd moved in forever was his fingers. A little container of pills was next to the keyboard, but the seal on it wasn't broken.

Yugi turned his eyes on Kaiba, "You didn't take the medication he gave you?"

"The doctor said that you should only sleep for short periods of time for the next while," Kaiba went on coldly as if he hadn't heard Yugi speak, "You ankle was badly sprained and should heal within two weeks. Your white-haired friend in the chair may have suffered internal damage, but the doctor's not sure yet. He took some samples and will have the results soon. Your friend is on sedatives. The other two were more or less fine, but the dog needed a dressing on his leg and spear-head suffered minor injuries resulting in bruises and a few cuts."

"Thanks, Kaiba." Yugi said quietly; he really appreciated Kaiba having remembered all that and decided to drop the issue of the other teen's drugs. He instead tried to appeal more to Kaiba's interests. "What are you doing?"

"Simply put, I'm trying to find Mokuba." Kaiba replied shortly, his eyes scanning statistics and figures that flashed across the screen, "But it's more difficult than it sounds."

"I'm sorry." Yugi murmured softly, "I don't know either."

Kaiba smiled bitterly, something that was more a smirk than a smile to be honest, "Go back to sleep, Yugi."


	5. Chapter 5

_(Sorry this one is a day late. I had it done yesterday, but I wasn't feeling well and couldn't get it to you, sorry about that. Thanks going out again to MarbleAngel and darkmetaldragonfangs for reviews, and a special thanks going out to Sirilithiel (sp? sorry!) because I forgot to thank her the first time she reviewed. Without futher ado, here's chapter five!)_

_**Chapter 5: Forty-Two Degrees South, One Hundred Forty-Seven Degrees East**_

She knew where she was. The way the people spoke told her that much. But then, she didn't know exactly where she was.

Yes, she was in Australia, she knew that. The people talked oddly, and with a strange accent. But she wasn't in any city she'd ever heard of. She'd asked someone passing by what city they were in, and was answered with 'Launceston'. But she did not know where that was.

Well, maybe she didn't know she was in Australia. She figured she was, but if she'd never heard of the city before... mayhap she was someplace else.

She'd awoken a few hours ago, lying on a bench near the pier. People weren't paying any attention to her, just walking by and continuing on with their on conversations. She'd had to hail someone simply to ask where she was.

This she found odd. Her appearance was by no means commonplace, and yet these people didn't seem to care. Perhaps she had been flung somewhere beyond the parameters of Earth.

But that didn't make sense. It just didn't. She understood what the people were saying , and they understood her. Within an alien colony or some other such thing, that just wouldn't be a possibility.

'_I must be going mad.'_ Isis thought dully to herself, standing up and smoothing the linen of her dress, _'I've surely never thought up anything so ludicrous in my entire life.'_

She looked in both directions, wondering who might be able to help her. She wanted to know where she was, and she wanted to get back to Japan. That's where everyone else was, as far as she knew. A knowledgeable-looking person walked past her briskly; Isis hurried after him and tapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Please sir, I don't know where I am."

The man stopped and regarded her with a look of calculation, "Why, you're in Launceston."

"And where is that?" Isis pressed with urgency; it looked like a boat was coming in and she was concerned that she may have to travel on it. The organization of that could take some time.

"Tasmania." The man replied, raising his eyebrows at her tone of concern, "Are you lost?"

Tasmania! That was the island off south of Australia. "No sir, thank you. Would that boat get me back to Australia?" Isis gestured to the incoming ferry.

The man nodded, and began to walk away, shaking his head and muttering something about 'foreigners'.

Isis placed a hand on her heart and thanked Ra for her good fortune, then hurried into the port, hoping she could get this done right.

_**Interlude 5.1 Cold-town **_

"Oh man, what a hard day at work! Glad it's over!" José sighed and stretched his arms out above his head.

Jenna sighed and whacked him on the back of the head, "You say that every day, you moron! And every morning you come back all joyous and ready to work your butt off again!"

"Isn't that the asset of a good employee?" José pouted, rubbing the back of his head gingerly, "Anywho, come on Felix, I'll show you my place!" He grabbed Yami by the hand and began dragging him towards the door.

Jenna smiled at them while they were leaving, calling to Yami, "Be careful! That place is dangerous!"

Once they were outside, -Yami still didn't know what that white stuff falling from the sky was- José turned to Yami with a grin, saying, "Pretty fun day, huh?"

Yami nodded, about twenty questions burbling on the end of his tongue but none being able to decide whether to come forth or not. He must have looked like he had something to ask (either that, or José was psychic) because the red-headed teen suddenly said, "You know, I know dick all about you. Why don't we play twenty questions? You know how that game works?" Yami shook his head, so José continued, "Well, we take turns asking each other questions, until we've both asked and answered twenty... It usually doesn't get that far, but who knows! It might happen! I mean we know dick all about each other right?"

"I... suppose." Yami answered cautiously, figuring this 'dick all' mean 'nothing at all'. What odd terminology.

"Okay, then I'll go first! Where are you from?"

Oh great, this question. "Originally, or where I live now?" Yami questioned, thinking to himself that, honestly, both answers would be quite complex.

"Oh, originally. I've always been one for the past!" José waved his hand, winking at Yami as he did so.

Yami swallowed, took a deep breath, then said quite calmly, "I was born and raised in Ancient Egypt."

José took one look at him and burst out laughing. When he could catch his breath to some extent, he gasped, "Okay man, I understand if you don't trust people, but you can tell me the truth, I'm not going to use it against you or anything."

Yami bristled slightly. "I'm not kidding."

José raised an eyebrow at him, as likely in relation to the statement as well as the tone of voice, but then shrugged and said, "One question, one answer. It's your turn now, ask me anything! I, the great José, shall answer!"

Yami cast around his mind, trying to find something that wasn't too outlandishly stupid. Finally, he said, "Where are we? What city?"

"Ste. Sault Marie, eh! Canada all the way!" José punched the air with his fist, then made a peace sign, accompanying it with a grin.

Canada. Well, that was helpful. Figuring he may as well push this a little, he said, "Your turn."

José nodded, then put a hand on his chin, appearing to think for a moment. Finally, he asked, "Where do you live now?"

"Domino City, Japan. It's actually a district in Tokyo, but we still label it a ctiy." Yami replied simply; José looked as if it made no sense to him how one could be born in ancient Egypt and now be living in Japan –heck, that he could still be living was a pretty big accomplishment.

Yami's turn to ask a question. Finding nothing else remotely relevant, he asked, "What's this white stuff falling from the sky?"

"Oh that? It's snow. People ski on it all the time, but I guess there's not much in a district of Tokyo, eh?"

Yami shook his head, glad he could finally put a name to the fluffy cold flakes.

"Okay, I've got a big one for you." José cracked his knuckles. "How in the world did you get from ancient Egypt to modern-day Japan without shrivelling into nothingness?"

Yami actually felt a smile tug at the his mouth. "It's a long story."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: My goodness, if you people are still here I praise you! Sorry this took so long, I'm not even going to try to dig up an excuse for myself... Thanks going again to Sirithiliel, Marble Angel, Amy and Darkmetaldragonfangs for the awesome reviews!_

**_Chapter 6: Tver _**

"Here is my house. You leave shoes at door." The woman said as she opened the door to allow Bakura to enter first.

That he did, looking around with something less polite than curiousity but more civil than disdain. It was a very small house; there was a narrow hallway leading off the entrance with three doors off it two to the left and one on the right and stairs leading up at the end of the hall. The carpets were all thin and old, but they looked like they were in good shape and were a shade of dark red. Pictures lined the walls, one of the Mosque and others of other important looking buildings.

The woman stepped past him and went through the furthest left-hand door, saying to him, "You look around if you like. I make food."

Bakura did not particularly want to look around –the house smelled sort of musty- but he took his shoes off and stood in the entrance until he heard a strange sort of mewling noise coming from the room on the right. This piqued enough of his curiousity that he poked his head inside the door. Then he gasped and nearly ran down the hall to the room the woman was in, which turned out to be a kitchen. Harshly, he accused, "You never said you had a cat!"

The woman turned from a the contents of a pot she was stirring and shrugged, replying, "Not thing that come up in alleyway when you scream at me."

If Bakura had been raised in a more modern environment and had the courtesy to feel such a thing, he would have felt guilty, but as he was an ancient thief, he continued, "Yes but... a cat! Cats are sacred creatures!"

The woman's eyebrow quirked. "Maybe long time ago, but not now. Now Kinfen just kitty."

"Just a kitty?" Bakura looked scandalized; perhaps it had something to do with being in a different country, but he could not bring himself to accept that cats were not still regarded as important, "But... it's a cat..."

"Yes, Kinfen is cat, you go see cat now and I cook?" It sounded as if she was trying not to smile at him but Bakura didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, I'll go see the cat... It shouldn't be alone, someone might try to injure it..." Bakura did not mutter his response to her, but more under his breath to himself as he left the kitchen and went to the cat's side. He did not attempt to touch the cat, nor to speak to it The holiest of deities could be very temperamental but merely sat at the opposite end of the couch to it. Every now and then he'd glance at it sidelong, as if to check if it was still there; Kinfen stayed asleep.

"Food done!" The woman called out about ten minutes later; Kinfen rose and stretched and leapt off the couch onto the floor. Bakura also leapt from the couch to the floor, though he elected to go on two feet instead of four. Both cat and male entered the kitchen at almost the exact same time, though Bakura stayed in the doorway and Kinfen wove his way around the woman's legs. She smiled at the feline and cooed at him in her maiden tongue, then gestured to a bowl of something on the counter, "There, you eat. Is good."

Bakura looked at the red, soup-like substance with white-ish chunks and asked, "What the hell is this?"

"Borscht."

Bakura took a spoonful of it and lifted it to his nose, sniffing it suspiciously. It didn't smell entirely disgusting. He slowly put the spoon in his mouth and tasted it, swallowing after a second and giving her a look of rather grudging admiration, "It's good."

"Borscht good for headaches." She replied simply, tucking into her own bowl. Kinfen meowed loudly from around her ankles; she consented to his request with a small smile and put a third bowl of the tomatoey flavoured soup on the floor for him.

The two humans and single cat ate in silence for a long while before the woman finally said, "What your name?"

Bakura looked up through narrowed eyes, "Why does it matter?"

The woman sighed and continued speaking, "See, I call Kinfen by name, not 'kitty'. You call me Raiza, because is my name. I call you...?"

"Man. Male. Person." Bakura muttered, not entirely willing to give up his name to this woman; no matter how he tried, –which honestly wasn't very much- he couldn't bring himself to trust her.

"Be nice. I feed you and give you place to sleep. You give me your name. Not much."

Bakura sighed; he figured if he didn't tell her something, he'd never hear the end of it; either that, or he'd end up back on the street with nothing but a mortal body and not the least idea of how to communicate. Seeing as he wasn't the most creative of people, he simply said, "Fine. Bakura."

"Bakura? Weird name."

"Raiza isn't so normal itself, bitch." Bakura growled, taking slight offense at the ridicule of his name.

To his surprise, she smiled. "Raiza name in my country. Bakura name in your's. Sorry."

Finding nothing to say, he grunted. Well, at least she cooked a decent meal.

_**Interlude 6.1 Aswãn **_

He'd crossed the Nile just beyond the First Cataract, and now stood beside a busy street, people milling in and out and back and forth and jumbled Arabic sailing back and forth above his head and the smells of the city whirling around him. Malik drank it in; such were the things you never thought you'd miss until you left home for an age.

Someone shoved him roughly in the ribs, causing him to crunch backwards against the muddy stone wall of a building. Someone several floors above poked her head out and yelled at him, shaking her fist. He apologized quickly while drawing back in the bustling crowd, losing himself to her eyes.

'_That could have turned out badly.'_ He thought to himself, tucking his elbows in close to him while people jostled him left and right. The dust rose in thick clouds and threatened to choke him. He felt the need to move out of the crowd and just sit back. He'd not experienced this in a while and –though he had missed it- it was definitely something you had to gradually get back into.

He chose a direction and pushed.

_**Location: Thirteen Degrees South, Forty-Nine Degrees East **_

Mokuba opened his eyes and sat up, hearing hollers of laughter outside his room. Now, how did that make sense? No one ever laughed in his house... maybe he'd left the television on again...

He rubbed his fist across his eyes, now wondering why Seto hadn't just turned the television off whenever he'd gone to bed.

Oh shoot.

This wasn't his room.

The floor was packed dirt, the walls and roof constructed of some sort of straw-and-mud mixture that sort of looked like primitive clay. Pots and jars or various sizes stood around in the corners, a few smelling of spices but others giving off no scent. He wasn't lying on his own bed; it was actually a mat on the floor with reed-like things lain underneath.

Just as he was standing up and turning around with curious wonder, a young boy poked his head in and looked at him. Mokuba stared. The boy had deep brown, sun-baked skin and wide brown eyes. His hands and feet looked muddy, and he was wearing a simple cloth tunic as a shirt. Ragged, nearly thread-bare shorts complete his outfit.

The boy looked nearly as surprised to see Mokuba up as Mokuba was to see him. He backed out of the room quickly, yelling something in a language Mokuba didn't understand.

About twenty more children came to the door, some older, most younger than the first who'd come, and in all varying states of dress and cleanliness. One little girl came in dressed in nothing at all, but she looked to be no older than two so Mokuba thought nothing of it.

But when a few of the more daring children came forward and started poking him, he began to feel a little uncomfortable. After one nearly touched his face, he whacked the hand away and yelled, "Get back! Don't touch me!"

The children screamed and ran outside the hut, scattering to who knows where. Mokuba sighed and also stepped out, then gasped loudly and nearly fell down.

Stretched before him was wide expanse of what could only be African Savannah. Small bushes and trees reached for the sky with thin, scraggly branches, and in the distance animals could be seen.

The first thing Mokuba thought was: _'How in the world did I get here?'_

The second thing he thought was: _'I wonder how my cell phone reception is?'_

And without thinking any further than that, he pulled the phone out of his pocket (odd that the people here hadn't touched it) and dialed his home phone number, hoping that his brother would pick it up.


	7. Chapter 7

_(A/N: Thanks to all of you for stickingwith this, what with sparodic updates and all. Sirithiel, darkmetaldragonfangs and Ankhutenshi, you guys rock! You keep my spirits up, so thanks for the reviews!)_

_**Chapter 7: Domino City**_

_Ring... ring... _

Jounouchi looked up from the floor, "Kaiba, your phone's ringing."

Kaiba grunted and continued typing.

_Ring... ring... _

"Kaiba! Your phone!" Jounouchi said with more urgency; he'd been stuck inside this house for who knew how long and the only thing he'd been able to do was sleep... when he was awake it seemed like everyone except Kaiba was asleep. Other than that, he was hungry, which made almost anything very irritating very quickly.

"I heard you the first time." Kaiba remarked dryly, his eyes not moving from the computer screen.

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

"Who is it?"

"How should I know, I haven't picked it up." Jounouchi shot back sarcastically, then added, "I don't even know where it is."

"Idiot, it has call display." Kaiba muttered, then cocked his head in indication to the telephone's whereabouts.

Jounouchi went over to it and picked it up, "It says private caller."

"What's the number?" Kaiba asked, still not paying attention to anything other than his computer.

"261-"

"That's the area code for Madagascar."

Jounouchi didn't have the time to marvel at how Kaiba knew these –apparently useless- things, "665-8225."

"Give me the phone!" Kaiba snarled suddenly, his arm shooting out and seizing it from Jounouchi's hand. He pressed it to his ear and said quickly, "Mokuba, why the hell are you in Madagascar?"

"Seto!" Jounouchi blanched when he heard Mokuba's high-pitched voice crackling through the phone. How had that kid gotten mixed up in all this disappearing stuff? "I don't know what's going on, where am I?"

"Hold on and I'll track your signal." Kaiba said, putting the phone down so he was hands-free to type. Two seconds and a map appeared on screen. Five more and a loading-indication later, a blinking red dot appeared on the northern-most tip of the island of Madagascar. Kaiba picked up the phone again, "Mokuba, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Seto. The people here are sort of afraid of me, but they haven't hurt me or anything." Mokuba sounded rather cheerful for someone halfway across the world with little to no idea of where he was.

"Listen to me carefully, you need to go South. It looks like you're just outside of Antsiranana, and you need to get to the capital, Antananarivo. It has the only airport on the island."

Jounouchi blinked. Long words, and lots of a's. He hoped Mokuba had better memory than he did, for the kid's sake.

Mokuba didn't sound daunted, "Okay Seto, so I need to go to Antananarivo? I'll try something. Do you need me to keep my phone on, because I don't know how long the battery will last..."

Kaiba looked like he thought about that for a moment, then said, "Turn it off for now. Call me every few days so I know you're alright and so I can update your location. It won't change while the phone's not signalling."

"Alright." Mokuba's voice suddenly went wavery; it seemed he had realized just how far he was from home and his brother. Hanging up would mean making that distance even bigger.

Jounouchi had an idea. He poked Kaiba on the elbow, waving at himself. Kaiba raised an eyebrow. 'Let me talk to him.' Jounouchi mouthed, giving his most winning grin. Kaiba shook his head, replying to Mokuba, "You sure you're alright?"

It sounded like Mokuba was putting on his brave face for his brother, "Yeah, I'm good. I should go figure out how to talk to these people..."

"Wait Mokuba! Don't hang up!" Jounouchi yelled from the other end, causing Kaiba to look at him with complete disgust and thrust him the phone; how could he hang up now? Jounouchi took the phone and spoke into it, "Hi Mokuba!"

"Jounouchi? Why are you at my house?" Mokuba now sounded rather confused.

"We got a bit beat up around here. Long story, and I don't know it. Listen, you'll get back no problem, so don't worry."

Jounouchi thought he could hear Mokuba smiling. "Yeah... thanks Jounouchi."

"No sweat. And hey, where do you keep your food? Your brother isn't a very good host." Oops. He hadn't meant for that last comment to come out.

Mokuba didn't seem to notice, "Upstairs, in the kitchen. When you come in the front door, it's the second door on your right."

"All right! Thanks Mokuba! You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Of course. Bye!" Mokuba sounded more cheerful than he had a few moments ago when talking to his brother, so Jounouchi considered his job done and hung up.

Kaiba rounded on him, "What did you do that for?"

Jounouchi blinked. "Do what?"

"Talk to Mokuba like that! He's not your brother!"

"No but... well, let's be honest Kaiba, you're not the best in the sympathy department." Jounouchi shrugged, heading for the stairs.

"Where are you going now?" Kaiba demanded, returning to his computer but not typing anything. It'd take a moment before he found something else to do.

"The kitchen. You need a few lessons in hosting, we've been here hours and nothing to eat. What do you live off of, coffee and peanuts?" Jounouchi didn't wait for an answer and bounded up the stairs, any boredom and lethargy forgotten in the face of food.

_**Interlude 7.1 **_

_**Sault Ste. Marie**_

José stared. "So dude... Dude! That's so awesome!"

Yami had to smile, just a little. "I remember very little."

José shrugged, "Hey, don't sweat it. I'd forget a couple of things if I'd been... dead for like a thousand years."

"I think it's been a bit longer than that." Yami said delicately, but he really didn't care either; José believed him and that was all that really mattered.

José shrugged again, swinging his arms back and forth. After a moment, he said, "Your turn."

Yami blinked, then remembered what he was talking about. They were playing twenty questions. "I don't know... how did you start working at a beavertail place?"

"Hmm... now that's my long story." José appeared thoughtful for a minute, then replied, "Well, my mom used to own it and she married Kolin's dad. My parents got divorced when I was young." He added at the confused look on Yami's face, "Anyway, Kolin and I became 'brothers', except we don't get along so we never really considered ourselves related. Mom and Kolin's dad moved somewhere... and we haven't heard from them since. They talked it over before they left and decided that Kolin was more responsible, so now he owns the beavertail place. I work there because I have since I was old enough to walk. I wasn't getting paid back then, but you know what I mean, eh?" José finished with a cheeky smile; his spirit really wasn't one to be dulled by anything.

"That's really interesting." Yami said politely, and it was, at least to him. He'd never heard of this sort of brother and divorce business.

"If you say so." José grinned, then said, "I just got my next question! How'd you get your hair to look like that, it's awesome!" He indicated the tri-coloured spikes on Yami's head.

"Good question. I really don't know. It's how it grows." Yami replied even, with a self-conscious brush of his hand through his hair.

"Lucky. That's awesome, man!" José exclaimed, then looked up at the building they were next to, "This is my apartment building. I'm on the fourteenth floor." He opened the door and let Yami go in first.

Yami looked around; it wasn't a really fancy place, but what could you expect so close to downtown? There was a potted plant near the window, and a bunch of buzzing buttons on a panel on the wall. Yami was about to go over to them when José called him over to a second set of doors.

"We go through here, then up the elevator. We don't need to buzz, and if you did, you wouldn't get an answer anyway. I'm not in my apartment right now, so how could I answer you?" He grinned and slid his card into the reader so the door would open, "Besides that, you'd need to be a pretty good guesser to get my number!"

Yami smiled weakly as he followed him into the elevator and said nothing until they entered Jos's modest apartment. It looked like any bachelor's place would; dirty in a half-decent sense, organized so hat no one but who lived there would know where things were. A map hanging on the wall caught Yami's eye. He went over to it, looking at all the places listed. Then he put his finger on Tokyo. "There."

José looked up from the fridge. "Whatwhere?" He said, wandering over with two cans of ginger ale.

"Tokyo. Domino City. It's there." Yami said softly

"Oh, home, eh? I get it. And we're... here." José replied, putting his finger on a dot in Ontario.

"I've got my next question. How far is it from where you're pointing to where I'm pointing?"

José almost fell down. "Whoa! That's going to take some figuring... But I'll get it for you, no worries..."


	8. Chapter 8

_(A/N: Woo! Thanks to all of you for the awesome reviews; I'm talking to lilmatchgirl007, DaimerymanRei, and of course, Sirithiliel and darkmetaldragonfangs. What I'd do without all of you, I don't know... BTW, if any of you were wondering, 261 is the real area code for Madagascar... yes, I'm that much of a loser, thank you very much!)_

_**Chapter 8: Windy Village **_

Yami no Malik stood high upon on outcrop of rocks, the wind whistling and swirling around him. It hadn't stopped blowing since he'd slunk off that boat, and he was quite certain he had been rendered half-deaf by it.

Pushing the hair out of his eyes for what must have been the millionth time, he heaved a sigh and looked around again. There wasn't much to look at; below him sprawled a small fishing village, with a half-decent port and semi-large city in the distance. He'd either needed to get a ride somehow or brave these highlands to get to that city.

Seeing as he didn't look all that inconspicuous he'd checked his reflection in the lapping sea-water; his appearance hadn't changed from normal and that was not necessarily a good thing, he decided to take the rocks. They were easier to navigate than they'd looked from below, but it had taken him a good two hours or so to get where he was.

He hadn't thought of food earlier, and now he wished he had; he was desperately hungry and found himself wishing for some sort of sustenance. Why hadn't he stolen something _before_ he'd scaled half the damn rocks? True, he'd made it to a sort of moor, but it didn't go on flat for very long. He needed to get higher for the truest of level grounds.

There were absolutely no trees in sight whatsoever, so the possibility of finding some sort of fruit was next to impossible. And what was worse, thick grey clouds were rolling in and air smelt thickly of moss and salt-water, making him feel rather sick to his stomach. He hated this.

There was loud boom of thunder, and the first drops of rain started to fall.

A lot.

_**Interlude 8.1 Launceston **_

All around her was the sea; before her, behind her, to her left, to her right. It was very belittling. It also provided ample time to think. There wasn't much else to do. She'd been on this boat for three hours and, according to the frequent PA announcements, there were another two of travelling before they arrived at their destination.

Nonetheless, Isis was glad she'd managed to get on this ferry sailing from Launceston to Melbourne. At least she'd be in Australia then, and she could figure out some way to get back to Japan. She'd been thinking of returning immediately to Egypt –she'd been thinking of a lot of things, actually- but she had no idea where her brother or Rishid were, and the only place she could think of was Domino City. It was the last place she'd seen them all, so didn't it make sense they'd be there?

Not at all. She was in Launceston.

Isis sighed; how in the name of Ra would they be able to find each other if they were scattered all over the world? She could only hope that those she cared about were well and also trying to return to Japan. It would depend on where they were.

She worried for Rishid. He may have done many things with Malik, and travelled far with her brother, but he didn't have an easily-concealed oddity, as Malik did, nor did he have much of the cunning of her younger brother. Not to say he was stupid, but he wasn't entirely experienced with all the people of the world. And that worried her.

She worried for the others. If she had been spewed to Tasmania, what had happened to the others? Had they too been launched somewhere beyond belief? What if some of them had died? Not knowing these things nearly drove her to madness.

Most of all, she worried for her brother. Oh, she knew he was entirely capable of taking care of himself, and that was what troubled her. If he decided he was so capable, he might stay wherever he was, and they'd never find each other. That would be... awful; she'd spent so many years searching for her brother, and when she'd found him, he'd been a vengeful madman obsessed with a single murder and the taking over of the world! Well, perhaps that was exaggerating slightly, but it did put things to term. He hadn't been the brother she remembered; the brother she'd been searching for. That was frustrating as well and concerning. If he never came back, perhaps she'd never find the same brother she'd lost so long ago.

To be sure, he'd never be the same. Things had changed the day he'd had the Pharaoh's secret carved into his back, the day she'd received the Millenium Key, the day their father had died... Time couldn't be turned backwards. They could never go back to the way it had been. But she was willing to accept that... if she could have Malik back. Malik, and not the compulsive teenager she'd found in Domino. She understood he'd spawned a second half but still... she couldn't help wishing...

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself; the wind had picked up and she was finding it rather chilly out here on deck. She turned to head inside and found herself facing a rather oddly-dressed man grinning at her widely. He was wearing an off-white button-up shirt that was hanging loose above bright red denim shorts and he had a tie for a belt. She was about to dismiss him as crazy when he said, quite legibly, "What's a beauty like you doing out here all alone?"

So he wasn't crazy; he was a creep. Coldly, she replied, "I believe that's none of your business."

"I'll make it my business, then." He said cheerily, though underlying it was a dark tone. Isis put herself on guard. This man was not safe.

"I'm quite fine on my own. I'm meeting someone at the port in Melbourne." Isis tried again to rid herself of him, telling a white lie.

"Oh, are you?" He said with another wide grin, "My mistake, then. I'd love to meet her."

Isis didn't know exactly what he was implying, but she really didn't like it, "I don't believe you understand me. I'm meeting someone I haven't seen in quite a while, and I don't think he'd like it if you disturbed me."

"Mmm. Well, I'll see you around lady." The man said and shuffled off.

Isis shuddered and went inside. She didn't trust that man.

**_Location: Tver _**

Bakura woke up to the sound of mewing somewhere around his ankles. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, seeing Kinfen's glowing eyes peering at him from the other end of the couch. Apparently the cat didn't take kindly to his stealing the most comfortable sleeping place in the house.

Bakura pulled his knees up to his chest, leaving a good half of the couch available to the animal. Kinfen purred and curled up on the last cushion of the couch, closing his eyes and falling straight to sleep. Bakura sighed; he hadn't angered the cat. That was a good thing. A very good thing.

He pulled the blanket off himself and stood up, looking around the living room where he'd spent the night. This was that woman's house, Raiza. And if he wasn't mistaken, he could hear her moving around upstairs.

Bakura wandered around in sock feet until he remembered where the kitchen was; in he headed, looking in the fridge for something to eat. It was still dark out, but he was hungry. He had no idea what time it was.

"Early day food not in fridge."

Bakura whirled around to see Raiza standing in the doorway, dressed smartly and smiling at him. He narrowed his eyes.

"Where is it then?" He demanded.

"Cupboard." Raiza replied, going to it and opening it. She passed him a box of cereal and a bowl, then took out a bowl for herself. Bakura poured cereal into the bowl, got the milk from the fridge and filled it to the top, then began to eat. The two of them spent half the meal in silence before Bakura asked, "Where are you going?"

Raiza looked up, confused, "What you mean?"

He indicated her clothing.

"Oh! I have work."

"Where?" Bakura wasn't really interested, but he'd not heard of any workplace where you had to dress so nicely that wasn't somewhat powerful. And power was interesting.

"Nuclear plant."

Bakura nearly choked, "What?"

Raiza shrugged, "Work. Nuclear plant. Not big deal. Boring."

Bakura's eyes went wide. She worked at a nuclear plant? _A nuclear plant_! How much more power could you pack into one building? "Can I go with you?"

Raiza looked critically at him, then said, "I not think so. Security not nice."

"Please?" He hated that word, but this was a nuclear plant they were talking about... And a Russian one, to boot.

Raiza looked at him again, sighing, "Alright. But I not sure they let you in. You come. If say no, you not come again."

Bakura nodded, thinking how very excellent this could be. A nuclear plant, honestly, was he becoming lucky?


	9. Chapter 9

_(A/N: Back again! I think this one sort of ventures out of character slightly, but I'll leave thatfor you to judge. Thanks to Sirithiliel, darkmetaldragonfangs, shadow of the doubt, Cettie-girl, Snickerer and lilmatchgirl007 for reviews!)_

_**Chapter 9: Sault Ste. Marie **_

"Sixteen thousand, four hundred forty-three miles."

Yami jerked awake; he didn't know what time it was but he was sure he'd dozed off to the sound of José's pencil scratching. "Pardon?"

José threw a piece of paper down in front of him with a flourish, "That's how far it is from here to Tokyo. I answered your question."

Yami blinked and picked up the sheet of paper, which was covered in numbers and messily scrawled notes he couldn't read. At the bottom '16, 443' was circled in red pen. "Oh, I see. Thank you..." He muttered, looking again at the map and then back down to the number. Then he sighed.

José sat down next to him, "You okay, man?"

Yami shook his head, then nodded, which only succeeded in confusing José further.

"You haven't eaten anything since that beavertail, eh? What say we get something for dinner?" José stood up and gave him a grin, trying to make him feel better.

Yami looked up and smiled weakly; he wasn't really hungry, but he could humour the other. Maybe he'd feel more like eating once there was food in front of him.

"Chinese? Pizza? We could go all out and have a salad..." José's cheery disposition made it difficult to feel depressed without feeling guilty.

Yami stood up too, saying, "Why don't we make something? Whatever's in the cupboard's fine..."

"That's only if you like Alphaghetti and Zoodles for dinner, but hey, whatever!" José poked him on the shoulder, wandering into the small kitchen and throwing the fridge doors open, "Would you look here, we've got some chicken strips! You like chicken?" He poked his head back out, looking at Yami with concern.

Yami nodded, feeling a smile creep onto his face. He couldn't help it, José made him laugh.

"Excellent! Then tonight, at Chez José, we shall feast on ze chicken strips and ze French fries, la!" A French accent was given to these words, as José pulled the chicken from the fridge and some French fries from the freezer, "Now sit back monsieur, and José shall create a repast magnifique!"

Yami obligingly sat down at the bar, watching as a cookie sheet came out of nowhere and was drowned in French fries, which were quickly tossed into oven. The chicken made its way onto a plate and into the microwave before José paused and took a deep breath, putting his elbows on the counter and looking at Yami with a cheeky smile. "My turn."

Yami blinked once, then nodded. Twenty questions. Where were they now, six?

"Question five!" José announced, then coughed and asked, "Who is the most famous person you know?"

Yami blinked again. That was random. Now, think about this. It was really very, excruciatingly difficult. "Seto Kaiba."

"No way! You know the dude who owns Kaiba Corp? _Personally?_" José sounded absolutely flabbergasted, surprised beyond belief.

Yami'd never really thought of Kaiba as much more than an asshole. How interesting to see from this side of the world's point of view. "Unfortunately."

"So he's a rich-bitch, eh? That's to be expected." José shrugged, then looked at the roof, "Still... I'd love to meet the guy, just to say I have..."

"You know about Duel Monsters here in Canada, then?" Yami asked politely; he had a feeling this could work out really well for him, if he was lucky.

"Oh yeah, sure! Actually, I'm involved in a hobby league at a place down the street. Help out there on weekends. It's really cool to see all the little kids duking it out like their lives depend on it."

Yami gave a hollow laugh. If only he knew.

"You duel?" José asked curiously, glancing at the time on the microwave to see if the chicken was done yet.

Yami cleared his throat. "Yes, actually, I do."

"Sweet, man. Well, if you want to come along with me, I was planning on heading in there tomorrow..."

Yami smiled wryly to himself. "I'd love to."

_**Interlude 9.1 **_

_**Domino City**_

Jounouchi had come back downstairs with his arms full of food of all kinds; canned food, packaged food, raw food, cooked food, almost anything you could hope to find in a cupboard or the fridge. He piled it on the couch to the opposite end of Yugi, who stirred a bit and woke up. When he saw the massive pile of food, he giggled slightly and asked,

"Hungry a little, Jounouchi?"

"Starving!" The blonde replied with a grin, tossing a loaf of bread across the room at Honda, "Wake up, you! It's eating time!"

Yugi heard a distinct snort of disgust from Kaiba who was still at the computer, then heard a groan as Honda woke up and chucked the bread back across to Jounouchi, "That's not the best reason to throw something at me!"

"It's the best way to wake you up, though!" Jounouchi laughed, opening the bread's packaging and starting to make a sandwich, "You sleep like the dead unless you smell something good!"

Yugi smiled at Jounouchi and Honda's ribbing back and forth; at least they were in good moods. He still felt enormously tired, and his head hurt. But he was hungry. He crawled down the length of the couch, hunting through the pile until he found an apple.

Jounouchi smiled at him and took a bite out of his sandwich, sighing a little. "Thas good stuff." He muttered, his mouth full and little bits of bread flying out.

Honda looked at him with a bit of disgust, and chewed his own sandwich. Yugi merely shrugged and ate his apple. After a couple of moments –and half the sandwich eaten- Jounouchi said to Kaiba, "What kind of meat was that?"

Kaiba, with his usual amount of scorn, replied, "I couldn't tell, you've got so much on there it's probably butchered the taste."

Jou almost scowled, but popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth and instead said, "Well, if you're implying you have crap meat, it's definitely good quality."

Honda shook his head while Yugi laughed, "Jounouchi, that doesn't make any sense."

Jounouchi looked offended, "Of course it does! He has crappy meat, it's just three times as expensive as anything we could afford. So it's good quality."

"You're an idiot." Kaiba remarked dryly, returning to his computer as something else was plucked from the pile and began to be devoured.

"Better than an ass." Jou muttered under his breath, causing Honda to smirk slightly, but Yugi said in a whisper,

"Jounouchi, don't say that. He's letting us stay here, can't you be friendly?"

"I will if he will." Jou replied simply, eating crackers idly.

Yugi shook his head but had to smile. Jou was crazy, sure, and immature, but that's what was great about him.

Honda suddenly turned things on a more serious note, "Jounouchi, you've been awake for a while. Has Ryou woken up at all?"

All attempts at humour were dropped. "No, I haven't seen him awake at all. You, Yugi?"

Yugi shook his head, "No, and I'm kind of worried. Kaiba said the doctor needed to take some more tests, but I don't know anything beyond that."

"He was moaning once." Kaiba said from over by the computer, "Saying something about 'his dark half' and 'the Millenium'."

Jounouchi rounded on him, "How come you never said anything before?"

"None of you asked." Kaiba returned with easy indifference.

Jou sighed, and sat back down on the couch, "Well, at least we know he's still alive."

Yugi looked shocked, "You thought he was dead?"

"He could have drifted off while we were all sleeping. And mister computer over there wouldn't notice if the house fell down." Jou shrugged.

"I resent that." Kaiba muttered darkly, seeming like he was only half paying attention to them, if that.

"Good for you!" Jou returned sharply, then spoke again to Yugi, "But honestly, I don't know how we could tell if he's alive or not."

"There are conventional methods, like taking the pulse, checking for breathing..." Honda muttered sarcastically.

"I know that!" Jou said indignantly, "Jeez, don't turn into Kaiba on us."

Yugi didn't look happy. "You guys, don't argue. Ryou's not dead and he's not going to die, so this conversation doesn't need to be happening."

"Well if Jounouchi weren't so dull-" Honda began, but Jou cut him off,

"What do you mean 'dull'?"

"I mean stupid!"

"I'm not stupid!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Well if I am, then you definitely are!"

"I think you've taken too many hits to the head!"

"I think it wouldn't matter how many you'd ever taken!"

"Guys, don't fight!" Yugi said urgently; both Honda and Jou were rising and looking daggers at each other. These close quarters weren't doing well.

"Stay out of it Yugi!" Honda snapped, cracking his knuckles.

Jou immediately snarled, "Don't talk you Yugi like that! Just because he has a brain and you don't!"

"You want to say that again?" Honda said loudly.

A groan came from across the room, which went silent in an instant. Everyone looked across to a pair of brown eyes, and softly, Ryou said, "He's in Tver."


	10. Chapter 10

_(A/N: Two months! Thanks for sticking around with it! To all reviewers: You're going to have to wait until next chapter for an explanation! What is up with Ryou? You'll have to wait and see! For Cettie-girl: 26, 462 km says the converter. Thank yous going out to Subieko, Sirithiliel, lilmatchgirl007, koriaena and Cetti-girl for reviews!)_

_**Chapter 10: Tver **_

Bakura wandered up and down the hallways of the nuclear plant, keeping to the shadows whenever someone happened to pass him by. He still marvelled at the luck he'd had... to get in here had not been the easiest thing in the world.

Raiza –the Russian bitch, as he liked to think of her- has marched up to the front doors, same as always he'd supposed, and began speaking in rapid Russian with the two guards on duty. More than once they'd looked at him suspiciously, then gone back to the conversation with their eyes narrowed. Finally, when Raiza was almost yelling, they let him in, though not without darks look and grunts of distaste.

Raiza had given him a weak smile after that, and handed him a card with some Russian printed on it. "You not lose," She'd said, "It make you okay to be here. Wear around neck."

And he was wearing it, to be sure. Maybe he wasn't doing what she'd asked (she'd told him to stay in her office while she stepped out for a moment), but he still had rights to be in here. The little piece of plastic dangling from the chain around his neck made that certain.

He'd already looked into multiple rooms, finding nothing remotely of interest. Damn it, where did they keep the dangerous stuff in this place? And he was sure Raiza would be out looking for him soon; she knew this place better than he did, so he was at a disadvantage.

Or maybe not. Thief, you know.

Bakura turned down a corridor and saw, at the opposite end of the hall, a door marked with two symbols he recognized: Radioactive and Danger.

Excellent.

Bakura went swiftly down the hall, wondering why he'd not seen any guards inside this place. Maybe they were secure in thinking that no one would ever make it inside, so they could lay off security on the inner works.

'_How considerate of them,'_ Bakura thought nastily, approaching the door, _'Makes my time so much easier.'_

There was a hitch. The door had some kind of security code panel box thing on it. Bakura assumed you had to swipe your card to get in –if you worked there. He didn't, and he didn't suppose they'd have been nice enough to give him a card with those kinds of capabilities.

Well, that was just peachy. Lucky he always came with a backup plan.

Bakura pulled off his shoe and took the steak knife from the bottom of the inside of it. They'd checked him for weapons when he'd entered, but Raiza had hurried him through that. She obviously thought he was safe.

Poor stupid girl.

He'd stolen the knife in her kitchen when she wasn't looking. And the only place he could think of where it wouldn't be at all detectable was his shoe. So in it had gone. You always needed a weapon when going into enemy territory.

Or places –say, nuclear plants- with lots of security -say, the little box he was methodically cutting off the door.

Bakura slipped his shoe back on, wincing very slightly because the knife had cut his foot. It didn't hurt much, but he hated the feeling of your own blood squishing around you. It made him feel weak, not one of his favourite feelings; his least favourite, in fact.

A loud 'click' made him jump; he hadn't been paying attention to what he was doing, and his knife had struck the door. He quickly eased it back into its proper position, continuing to work away at the cords and electrical wires binding it to the door.

There was a chance he might set off an alarm. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

In fact, he was counting on it.

See, if the alarm went off, people would come to him. People with half-decent weapons. Weapons he would gladly add to his formidable arsenal of tooth, nail and a steak knife, which was rapidly dulling.

A crash indicated that the security box had finally fallen off. Funny, he didn't hear anything in the way of alarms, or rumbling security guards, or anything of the sort.

How disappointing. He'd just have to continue on with his wonderfully dangerous half-dull steak knife.

He gave the door an experimental push. To his complete surprise, it opened easily. What was it with this lack of security? How was it that cutting a box off a locked door did not set about any protocol measures? Why was it so damned easy to get into a room filled with –he hoped- nuclear weapons?

He poked his head inside, and nearly fell to the floor with surprise. He'd thought there weren't many people around, and now he knew why. No less than a thousand (heck, it may have been three thousand, he couldn't count) people were milling around behind those doors, with the dark green outfit of guards showing up one in three people.

Bakura bit his lip. This was going to take some effort.

Then he smirked.

He hadn't had a challenge in a long time.

_**Interlude 10.1 **_

**_Antsiranana_**

A crowd of jammering children swirled and danced around him, as he walked down the dirt road towards the South. Their numbers had dwindled; when they'd left the village some time ago, it seemed every child that could walk was coming. Now, hours later, only the oldest –and some of the more stubborn young ones- remained.

Mokuba felt very out of place. It wasn't hard to be dressed better than these scruffy kids, but coming from where he did, he made them look extremely tattered. Which was exactly why he was the odd man out.

It was one of the few times in his life he wished Seto hadn't won that chess game.

There had been other times... where he thought he might have liked to be an average kid. Times when things were weird, or messed up, or just plain annoying. He didn't want to be responsible all the time. He wanted to play around like a normal kid, make mistakes and laugh about them.

Seto had tried to make it normal for him. But face it; Seto wasn't 'normal'.

His life wasn't normal.

Mokuba had a lot of time to reflect on this dirt road; none of the kids around him spoke anything other than Swahili, and he didn't know a word of that. He'd somehow managed to communicate through crude drawings in the dusty ground, but beyond their rather weak drawing skills, they had no means of understanding each other.

He almost sighed. Right now, he was really wishing that he was at home. Just in that special place where he felt secure, not halfway across the world.

This wasn't normal.

Would someone like to tell him why he was in Madagascar? Would someone like to explain to him why he really didn't want to go home –even though that was the thing he wanted most?

His head hurt. Why didn't he want to go home? He didn't –though he desperately did- want to see his brother. Oh sure, Seto'd be glad to see him. They'd hug and laugh and maybe crack a few jokes even.

Then it'd go weird again.

Or maybe, it'd be back to normal.

Seto would drown himself in work, try to do everything for him, act like he was thirty-six and not sixteen. He, Mokuba, would be shunted from place to place, escorted round the clock, protected and his whereabouts known every second.

Maybe this once... just this once... he might never get another chance...

Freedom.

Mokuba stopped in the middle of the road, crouched down and pulled a pointed stick from his pocket. Immediately, the children around him stopped moving, and one of the oldest –someone the other kids referred to as Kwasi- knelt next to him. It seemed Kwasi had the best drawing abilities out of any of the children, so he'd been deemed their 'translator'. Plus, he seemed to be adequate at interpreting Mokuba's drawing.

Mokuba chewed his lip for a moment while he pondered how to do this. Then, he began the message. He drew a stick figure with a shirt on (which had come to represent himself) and then a four-pointed star, circling the southern part of it.

Kwasi nodded; he understood that Mokuba was supposed to be going South, to the big city.

Mokuba then proceeded to cross it out, and draw a new four-point star, circling the western part. He drew his stick figure again, trying his best to make it look like he was running.

Kwasi looked confused for a moment, staring at the drawings with intensity. Then he stood up and started muttering, pulling Mokuba up with him. He pointed to the South, where on the horizon a city was just barely visible. Then he shook his head and deliberately turned himself West, making a big show of it. Then he took a few steps in that direction, turned back to Mokuba and cocked his head. Was this what he meant?

Mokuba nodded with a smile; Kwasi understood.

They weren't going to the city just yet.


	11. Chapter 11

_(A/N: Well this took an age. Apologies. Thanks to all me faithful reviewers; Subieko, lilmatchgirl007, Snickerer, darkmetaldragonfangs, Cettie-girl and shadow of the doubt. DMDF: I tried putting in chapter names before, but the co-ordinates make them too long)_

_**Chapter 11: Sault Ste. Marie **_

Yami lay awake that evening, listening to José's snores echo through the small apartment. He was lying on the couch, staring upwards, resolutely counting the dots on the stippled ceiling. So far, he was at fifteen thousand, seven hundred eighty-eight.

_'Fifteen thousand, seven hundred eighty-nine…' _

It seemed like time was taking forever. He'd not even been in this city for twenty-four hours, and it already felt like years. Years. It wasn't that he didn't like the place, –he found it rather interesting actually, if you could work out all the slang- it was just that…

It wasn't home.

He missed Domino City. He'd learned about the modern day there. He'd learned the names of all the streets and the names of all the little stores and all the little quirks on each and every street, from a single cement stone on the sidewalk being raised higher than the others, to the blood stain where a dog had been hit by car. It wasn't like he'd tried exceptionally hard to memorize such things (that and there wasn't all that much to do when you were carried around someone's neck all day), but more that he'd been in a state of learning. Thus, things had come easily to his memory and stayed there.

_'Fifteen thousand, eight hundred eleven…' _

He missed the people he knew by sight. The little old man who always waved to Yugi from across the street, and the over-dressed snobby old woman who always sneezed at the corner before walking her little dog to the pet shop. The little girl with square glasses who always hugged Yugi before he got on the bus to go to school, and the little boy who climbed up in a tree every morning so he could be higher than the cars. Heck, he even missed the stray cat that had nearly shorn off half Yugi's head that one time.

_'Fifteen thousand, nine hundred sixty-two…' _

He missed the familiarity of waking up and being able to see Yugi's room. He missed knowing what time the bells at school were going to ring, what time food was going to be eaten, what time Jounouchi was going to call him about something or other… Jounouchi'd been one of the few inconsistencies, but he was consistent in that he wasn't consistent… So even that was familiar.

'_Sixteen thousand, two hundred forty-seven…'_

He missed the people he knew by name. Jounouchi, Anzu, Honda, Otogi, Ryou, Isis, Hanasaki, Nosada… heck, he even missed Bakura, Malik, and –he hated to admit it- Kaiba. He missed all of them. They were all part of the home 'package'. But thinking about them made the homesickness worse. Who was to say they weren't all sitting around, not even noticing that he was gone?

_'Sixteen thousand, three hundred twenty-five…' _

He missed Yugi dearly. Yugi, the one who'd freed him from the Puzzle and become as much a part of him as anyone else had ever been. Yugi, the innocent boy who'd been thrust into crazed mayhem because of his love of games… and had never backed down once. Yugi, the only one who'd ever seemed to try to understand him. He missed Yugi more than anything he could ever remember.

_'Sixteen thousand, four hundred forty-three…' _

That was how far he was from home. He sat up on the couch, looking at the area of more than half the ceiling. The glowing clock on the microwave showed him that it had taken him nearly two hours to count that many…

How long would it take to travel that far?

_**Interlude 11.1 **_

_**Aswãn**_

Nearly an hour ago, Malik had stumbled out of the crowded streets, almost falling face-first into the sand when the press of people on all sides subsided. He'd taken a moment to collect himself, then begun walking. There was no concern of getting lost; many people lived further than the outskirts of Aswãn and there were no few temples in this area. It would be difficult to be so lost in one's mind that you didn't notice how far you'd travelled.

Funny that when he looked behind him the city seemed like no more than a speck on the horizon.

He wasn't actually that far, but the sun was setting and it was playing tricks on his eyes. He gave a bit of a sigh, returning to his walk. He supposed he should have tried to find lodgings, some food, and transportation to Cairo. All were priorities, and yet none of them seemed to matter.

This was Egypt. What did it matter if a roof was over his head?

Cairo was miles away, but the Nile flowed swiftly this time of year. What problems would there be bartering passage?

He was thinking too much. What need was there of food?

He sighed a bit, kneading his forehead with his knuckles. He'd be lying if he said his head didn't hurt. If he said his feet didn't hurt. If he said his soul didn't hurt.

There was so much. So much he'd never thought of, never seen. So much he'd forgotten. It was overwhelming, consuming; it fed him as it devoured him, it enveloped him as it set him free.

The feeling of being home, where he belonged.. he'd dreamt of it for so long.

And yet this wasn't what he'd wanted.

He had no family now. Not here. He was home, but he had nothing. Nothing but a raging fire inside himself that would seen take him or die.

Then where would he be?

As lost as when he'd started.

When he looked back on all the things that had conspired, on everything he'd ever done, he didn't regret it. None of it. It had all led him to where he was; or rather, where he'd been before getting magically transported halfway across the world.

He'd been content with himself, growing at peace with those around him, his life just descending from its violent and dangerously high crescendo. Now, he was all in turmoil again.

He knew his sister would be worrying about him. Worrying if he was having the exact thoughts he was having: Did he really want to go back?

Think about it; he was in Egypt, the one place he loved most, the one place he'd never been taken as strange or out of the ordinary. It was his birthplace, the sand running through his veins as sure as the blood of his ancestors. How could he deny this place?

Malik suddenly stumbled and fell on something rock-hard, scraping his knees. He blinked several times and focused on the stone beneath him, then with a surprised gasp scrambled backwards off it and pressed his forehead into the sand by means of apology.

He'd fallen on the immense unfinished statue of Osiris, Lord of Eternity, that lay some distance from Aswãn. He hadn't even realized he'd been heading in this direction, hadn't noticed the quantities of red granite bursting up around him. Now he felt shame.

Shame for having been so absorbed in himself that he'd not realized he was treading on this Lord's land disrespectfully. Shame for not realizing how much there was that symbolized Egypt's greatness, and considering himself above it. Shame for being.

Unbidden, the words of a great poet (1) came to mind:

'_On the sand_

_Half-sunk, a shattered visage lies…_

_And on the pedestal these words appear:_

'_My name is Ozymandias, kings of kings:_

_Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' ' _

He looked upon the fallen statue, sand whistling around it, and it stiffened his resolve. The words of the poet hadn't been directed to this stonework, but they still held depth for it. The stone had not been worn away; Osiris had held on, in vain hopes that one day his homage would be completed.

Malik turned and began walking back towards Aswãn. He needed to get to Cairo.

_**Location: Domino City **_

"Ryou! You're awake!" Yugi said, sliding his feet to the floor and beginning to limp across the room towards him. Jounouchi leapt up and seized his arm to help him; Honda –his spat with Jou forgotten- took his other arm.

"Only barely…" Ryou murmured, touching a hand to his forehead, then wincing and choking out, "He's in Tver, you've got to mark it down…"

"Who is? Ryou, what's wrong with you?" Yugi asked with concern, looking extremely worried at Ryou's odd behaviour.

"_He_ is! He's there… you've got to keep it somewhere, I don't know what's going to happen…" Ryou's eyes rolled slightly, his chest moving in and out rapidly. He looked like he was having some kind of fit.

"Ryou! Calm down!" Yugi cried desperately, tears forming in his eyes. He was already confused, already worried, and this wasn't helping. He turned on Kaiba, demanding, "Kaiba! Mark it down, please!"

Kaiba looked slightly shaken, but quickly snapped harshly, "What's he talking about?"

"It's his other half, Kaiba please! I don't know what's going on but there's something wrong with him, you need to mark it somewhere!" Yugi cried again, still trying to get towards Ryou. Something strange was going on; this wasn't normal, and it hadn't happened to him. What exactly had that spirit done to Ryou?

Kaiba sighed and quickly typed things in, and a second blinking dot appeared on his map of the world. "There, it's in."

"Ryou!" Yugi had reached him now, with Jounouchi and Honda's help. He seized the other teen by the shoulders, shaking him gently, "Ryou, it's okay! It's marked down!"

Ryou's head fell back for a moment, his breathing laboured. Jounouchi looked at Honda with a very confused expression; Honda looked quite shaken. Neither of them had any idea what was going on.

"Ryou, come on! You've got to be okay…" Yugi murmured softly, collapsing on Ryou's chest. He was still tired, his concussion still affecting him, and this sort of thing took a lot out of him. He looked like he would pass out again quite soon, his cheeks going white a shade to match Ryou's complexion.

Ryou's eyes were closed, his hands clenching the arms of the chair he was in. Yugi couldn't move and just rested where he was, crying onto Ryou's shirt. After a few moments, Ryou's soft voice spoke again, "I'm sorry…"

(1) Works cited from: p.27, Ancient Egypt, Lionel Carson (19565)


End file.
